


You Take My Breath Away

by swishydetective



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Ficlet, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Getting Together, Homehunting together, Implied Sexual Content, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Moving Out, Oneshot, Romance, Shamelessly Sappy, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 21:44:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20365573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishydetective/pseuds/swishydetective
Summary: "Crowley sighed and a small smile appeared on his face. He moved his arm ever so slightly, reaching for Aziraphale’s warmth. When he felt his angel’s thigh against his fingers, his body relaxed further, and he fell back to sleep. Blue eyes sparkled at the sight of him. He spent the remainder of the early morning petting Crowley’s hair and imagining what their future in a quiet little country house could be like. Crowley could have a lush garden outside and maybe Aziraphale would get some hens to have fresh eggs in the morning."A.K.A. Aziraphale and Crowley being domestic husbands and taking some steps in their relationship. (Warning: lots of fluff but also sexy times)





	You Take My Breath Away

**Author's Note:**

> Once again the biggest thank you to Sam (@.ineffablesam on twitter) for everything! 
> 
> I'm using *** for flashforwards and * for flashbacks in this 
> 
> Enjoy these two idiots being super in love x

In the flickering glow of numerous candles, tucked in his favourite armchair and draped in only a linen sheet, Aziraphale sipped a dessert wine. His white-blonde hair seemed to glow in the uncertain light and his blue eyes were gazing lovingly at the sleepy russet-haired figure in his bed. Crowley was sprawled out, limbs stretched in total relaxation, one that only came after achieving loving completion. There were no signs of the crease that formed in between his brows in constant worry. The shades which usually obscured his face were lost long ago, as their kisses became more feverish. Aziraphale couldn’t help but appreciate the curve of the long lashes that touched his cheeks. His naked body gleamed, tan skin against cream sheets. Aziraphale sighed, resting his chin against his hand. The last drop of cherry-coloured liquid lingered in the glass, to be left unfinished. The circular window had been cracked open earlier and only the noises of the night disturbed the comfortable silence. The soft gush of the wind against the drapes and the distant wail of sirens rendered the angel sleepy, but not enough to join Crowley in blissful forgetfulness. Aziraphale set the glass on a shelf and got up from the tufted seat. He took place in front of the window, admiring the clear night sky in all its indigo glory. He couldn’t help but notice the patterns the humans had made in the stars, which he knew his sleepy partner found hilarious. The city lights polluted the night sky, and on nights like these Aziraphale wished they didn’t live in the heart of a metropolis. He wished he could gaze up to the starry firmament, wonder at each and every single star, and admire Crowley’s work. At the thought of his love, he turned around to smile at him. Perhaps they could move somewhere quieter. Somewhere they could let the wind run through every feather in their wings. Somewhere neat. He stood next to the window for hours, watching the skies turn from an inky colour to a breathtaking amalgam of pinks and oranges. 

“Mmm’angel?” murmured a tired and raspy voice.

Aziraphale walked back to the bed and sat next to Crowley. He ran a hand through his feathery red hair, soothing him back to sleep.

“I’m right here,” he whispered fondly. 

Crowley sighed and a small smile appeared on his face. He moved his arm ever so slightly, reaching for Aziraphale’s warmth. When he felt his angel’s thigh against his fingers, his body relaxed further, and he fell back to sleep. Blue eyes sparkled at the sight of him. He spent the remainder of the early morning petting Crowley’s hair and imagining what their future in a quiet little country house could be like. Crowley could have a lush garden outside and maybe Aziraphale would get some hens to have fresh eggs in the morning. When the morning light drowned the room in a golden halo, Crowley stirred. He lazily opened a yellow eye and licked his lips sleepily. 

“‘Morning,” he smiled.

“Good morning my dear.” 

“Didn’t sleep?”

“No, I got to thinking and you know me… Can’t put this to rest once it’s running,” Aziraphale said, tapping two fingers to his temple. 

Crowley scoffed and raised a hand to his angel’s cheek, bringing him down for a kiss. Every time, Aziraphale felt a thrill at the tender moment when their lips locked. He doubted it would ever go away. Crowley smiled into the kiss and playfully pushed Aziraphale’s face away. 

“Can’t even stop thinking for me?” 

“Sorry,” Aziraphale smiled sheepishly. 

Crowley, a wicked grin on his face, took his angel’s chin and brought him in for another kiss. He sucked at Aziraphale’s lips, then slipped his tongue against his, hot and heavy. Just as Aziraphale sighed in pleasure, he moved to his jawline, sucking love marks all over it. Aziraphale gave in and laid down next to him completely. A devilish look in his eyes, Crowley nibbled at Aziraphale’s ear, as he knew just how sensitive the spot was. He shivered in Crowley’s arms. Satisfied, he let go of his angel and turned back around, pretending to go back to sleep. 

Aziraphale whined:

“You foul creature,” he said, trying to contain his laughter. 

“That’sss what you get for not giving me your undivided attention,” the demon replied petulantly. 

Yellow eyes peeked behind his shoulder, the grin on his face on full display. Aziraphale chuckled and slotted himself against his lanky frame, arms around his narrow waist. Crowley relaxed into him, nestling his head in the crook under Aziraphale’s chin. 

Even though the demon would never admit it out loud, cuddling was one of his favourite activities. The warmth that emanated from Aziraphale’s dreamy body felt like his personal piece of sunshine. His serpentine self could have stayed there for hours, soaking in the heat. 

Aziraphale slid a hand into Crowley’s and toyed with his fingers, enjoying the way they fit together. 

“I’ve been thinking—”

“What’s new…”

“Shut it,” laughed the angel. “I’ve been thinking about moving some place where we can see the sky.” 

The two lovers remained silent, their bodies intertwined beneath the covers. Aziraphale hoped it wasn’t too soon, hoped he didn’t make Crowley feel crushed under commitment. 

“That would make seeing each other difficult,” Crowley whispered, small. 

Aziraphale furrowed his brows. He moved, resting on his elbow, turning Crowley towards him. 

“Crowley, with _ you _ .” 

“ _ Oh.  _ Oh!” 

He regained composure. He took Aziraphale’s face in his hands and planted a kiss on his lips. 

“Really?” he pried, eyes wide and a small smile brightening his features. 

The angel leaned into Crowley’s hands and he couldn’t hide his fondness. 

“Of course my dear boy,” he beamed. “Don’t think for a second that I could ever go off without you.” 

Crowley’s eyes filled with tears, which he tried to blink away. 

“Fuck, angel-” 

He held Aziraphale against him, hiding his face into the angel’s soft chest. Aziraphale felt his own eyes well up and he squeezed Crowley even tighter. 

*

Ever since Armageddidn’t, they stayed at each other’s side, not only because they had essentially betrayed their respective head offices, but because they were each other’s world. They had no one else. They desperately needed each other. It took very little time before they finally uttered the words they forbade themselves to say for millenia. It happened in this very bookshop. 

The pair had spent a great evening at the Ritz and Aziraphale had insisted they go back to his place. He wanted to show Crowley the new books about astronomy that the young Antichrist had provided him. Crowley had agreed immediately, interested. They walked back home, and as Aziraphale let him in, Crowley couldn’t help but pass a finger on every shelf, every book, every strange little chachki he could find. The memory of the fire danced in his mind, but seeing the bookshop restored, and most importantly, seeing Aziraphale walk around reassured him that it was all behind him. He found the framed, handwritten copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s  _ The Raven _ and smiled, remembering how delighted Aziraphale was when he gave it to him. His angel sneaked behind him, a heavy volume in hand, and he looked at Crowley lovingly. Crowley turned around, the frame in hand, a smile on his face. 

“Remember this angel…?” he stopped in his tracks. 

Aziraphale hadn’t been able to hide the longing in his eyes. Crowley put the frame down, never breaking eye contact. They both felt it. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley as he inched closer and closer, the book still pressed against his chest. Crowley took off his shades, wanting to be sure. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, feeling the terrain. Crowley’s breath hitched and he took Aziraphale’s face in his hands, diving in for his lips. Aziraphale’s eyes closed instantly, eyebrows raised as he tasted Crowley’s mouth for the first time. He threw the heavy book on the ground, gripping the black dress shirt in an attempt to bring Crowley even closer. They stumbled against a bookshelf, Aziraphale’s back against the wall. One of his hands found the small of Crowley’s back and the other his neck as he sighed in relief. Crowley’s hips were flush with his now, his hands still cupping Aziraphale’s cheeks, his mouth sucking at his bottom lip. They let out soft noises between each new kiss, both of them desperate for the other. Pinned against the wall, the angel felt Crowley’s hand leave his face and roam his body, down to his thighs. Crowley lifted him off of his feet, Aziraphale’s legs closing around his hips, hands around his neck, playing in his russet hair. With very little effort, Crowley moved up the stairs where he found the loft, the cozy bed dead centre. He sat on top of the covers, Aziraphale straddling him, and he finally allowed them to breathe as he admired the blue eyes staring right back. Aziraphale moved a lock that had fallen out place, his fingers lingering on the little mark next to Crowley’s left ear. 

His heart bare, his golden eyes unafraid, Crowley’s stare never wavered as he whispered: 

“Take me.” 

Aziraphale kissed him languidly and they fell back onto the cream linen sheets. They disrobed and spent hours discovering each other’s bodies, Aziraphale whispering sweet nothings into Crowley’s ear between soft moans. Their limbs tangled, their wings fully stretched out, brushing against one another, dark like the onyx sky outside and white and blinding like the morning sun. There was patience and reverence in the act, the experience almost a holy confession. As Aziraphale rocked his hips into Crowley, they could feel all their past wounds heal. Perhaps Crowley’s faith had been a little bit restored that night and maybe Aziraphale let himself believe that someone could love him back just right.

*

Crowley raised his tear-stained face towards his angel, resting his forehead against his. 

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” the demon whispered. 

Aziraphale’s ever-changing eyes looked at him and he asked himself the same question. He kissed Crowley’s tears away, not having the words to express what he thought. 

“Where would you like to go?” asked Aziraphale, unsure himself. 

“The sky is best by the sea,” he stated. 

Blonde feathery hair bounced up and down with the movement of Aziraphale’s head. 

“Somewhere quiet,” said the angel. “So we don’t have to worry about humans seeing us.” 

“Somewhere safe,” Crowley uttered, barely audible. 

Aziraphale passed a hand in his red hair reassuringly, agreeing. 

“I’d quite like a cottage,” thought the cozy angel out loud. 

This brought Crowley’s grin back.

“Of course.” 

They stayed there until noon, bouncing ideas off of each other, until Aziraphale’s stomach complained loudly. The demon smirked and peppered kisses down his angel’s chest. He rested his head there. 

“Time to get you something to eat,” Crowley said, not moving an inch. 

The angel pouted, and, knowing he wouldn’t get anything done today, snapped his fingers and materialized a scrumptious breakfast. They ate in bed, Crowley stealing a strawberry here and there. By two, they had concluded the South Downs were the answer. The chalky hills and the nearby sea seemed the perfect haven for two supernatural beings. 

Crowley was sitting with Aziraphale, his fiery head resting against his collarbone, an arm wrapped around his bony shoulders to keep him close. 

“I guess I’d have to give up the bookshop,” Aziraphale thought out loud.

Crowley tensed in his arms, head whipping towards his angel’s face.

“You whaaaat?” 

“Don’t worry my dear, not the books, I could never part with them, just… this place.” 

The yellow eyes staring back at him were saddened, and he linked their fingers tightly. He was looking around the room differently now. They only had so many moments like these left in here. 

“It’ll be weird. Leaving here. There’s so much… history.” 

Aziraphale nodded, understanding. 

“Keep it. I’ll sell the Mayfair flat. I can part with it, but this place… This place means something.” 

The angel looked at Crowley wrapped in his arms. He never knew just how attached Crowley was to material things. He’d always considered himself the hoarder of the pair, seeing as his demon had never kept an item of clothing for more than a decade. And as for his flat, it was as minimalist as it could be. Crowley could follow his train of thoughts:

“I’ve never liked any of my stuff that much, but  _ you…  _ If I could collect everything from you, angel, I- I would,” he admitted, looking down. 

Aziraphale felt his heart swell in his chest. Moments like these made him aware of Crowley’s absolute and unconditional love. He needn’t say the words out loud, Aziraphale knew that wasn’t his style. His actions always spoke for him. He pressed a kiss on top of his fiery head, squeezing him tightly. Crowley’s hands squeezed his arm back. 

“If it means that much to you, then I wouldn’t dare sell it.” 

Crowley turned around, eyes bright. He took his angel’s face and kissed it relentlessly. The kisses became more languid and heavy, hands roaming each other’s naked body. They spent the rest of the afternoon tangled in the sheets, covered in a sheen of sweat and whispering each other’s names. 

***

The next day, they drove up to the South Downs in the Bentley. They held hands the whole time, which made Crowley blush furiously, his cheeks almost as colourful as his hair. Aziraphale couldn’t hide the smug smile on his face. They had found an agent who was  _ miraculously _ free to show them cottages on the same day. When the Bentley roared down the gravel road in front of the house, Amanda, their 37-year-old agent wearing a neat pencil-skirt and a sensible blouse, couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. As the car came to a halt and the two men got out, she frowned even more. They looked like complete opposites of each other, it would be hell trying to find these two a house they could compromise on. The man in all black never took his shades off and his partner was incredibly picky. Against her first judgment, they agreed on everything, the redhead completely smitten. They had linked their hands together for the whole tour of the last two houses. Amanda thought they made a cute couple: they were clearly in their honeymoon phase. 

Crowley had been whispering his thoughts about the houses in Aziraphale’s ear, not very keen on other people. The lady was nice enough but the demon could tell she was getting irritated about their demands. Aziraphale had no problem telling Amanda “the living room is too small”, or “we need at least two other bedrooms, with all the books and plants, dear”, or “what, windows in this condition? at this price? I don’t think so,” which put Crowley in an incredibly good mood, trying to hide his grin away. Thankfully, he could play it off as being fond of his angel, which he was. 

Aziraphale could tell Crowley was getting a kick out of the experience, and he tried his best to be as polite as he could with the agent, but nothing she’d shown them was what he’d envisioned for the next few hundred years with Crowley. It had to be perfect. After all, this was their first house together. 

They arrived at the last house of the day, which was a bit of a drive. As soon as Aziraphale got out of the Bentley, he gasped. They could hear the waves crashing from the front of the house. The cottage was painted a bright blue and it had exquisite flower boxes under each window. 

“It’s the colour of your eyes” murmured Crowley only for him.

Aziraphale blushed. They followed Amanda inside. The first thing they saw were the french doors at the back of the house, a perfect window for the stunning view of the chalky cliffs and the sea. Even Aziraphale was stunned into silence. The living room was cozy, a wood-burning fireplace in its center. Aziraphale could picture Crowley soaking up the warmth of the fire already. They walked through a few rooms, one of which would be perfect for Aziraphale’s most precious books. Then, Amanda led them to a little greenhouse off the kitchen, which made Crowley utter his first words to her, a “nice work”. The master bedroom had an enormous skylight over the bed, perfect for skygazing. Aziraphale was positively  _ glowing _ . 

“This is it. It’s perfect, right, dear?” 

“Down to the crown molding, angel,” Crowley grinned back. 

Amanda sighed in relief, a smile finally breaking through. They discussed the offer and she advised about going with a higher number, but Aziraphale insisted. They went their separate ways, the couple having brought a picnic so they could eat anywhere this search might land them. They’d found the local beach access and made themselves comfortable. Crowley cut the fragrant brie and Aziraphale broke the baguette apart. Amanda called back within an hour and she told them it was probably a miracle but they’d accepted their offer. Aziraphale thanked her and gave Crowley his phone back and kissed him. 

“What a surprising turn of events,” the demon grinned.

“Oh shush, we need to revamp that bathroom,” said Aziraphale sheepishly.

“You’re absolutely right, that bathtub was not going to cut it. With the lavish creature that I am? I do have standards you know.”

Aziraphale erupted in laughter and rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder. They celebrated by popping open the champagne they’d brought. They watched the sea’s back and forth until the sun came down on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pinks and purples. This is what pure bliss felt like, Aziraphale thought, the bubbles dancing in his mouth, Crowley’s strong arms around him, the infinite water in front of them. 

***

The wood floors were creaking under their step as they moved boxes inside the cottage. Crowley was lifting heavy boxes full of books, cursing under his breath, whispering about miracling everything into place. Unfortunately for the demon, they’d hired movers to help out with the heavier items. After a few hours, they found themselves in the empty house, surrounded by cardboard towers. Aziraphale was helping Crowley find a spot for each plant in the greenhouse, careful not to utter any praise at their beautiful leaves. The afternoon sun shone down on Crowley, his russet hair glowing with strands of copper, his exposed back beaded in sweat from earlier. Aziraphale admired the freckles on his shoulders, the way his muscles moved as he lifted a pot, the dimples in his lower back. Crowley looked back as he couldn’t hear any movement and caught him staring. A wicked grin spread across his face. 

“Enjoying the view?” 

“Mm, very much so,” Aziraphale admitted, ogling him. 

Crowley inched closer and snaked his arms around his angel, hands slipping in his back pockets, grabbing away and bringing their bodies flush together. Aziraphale made an “Oh” that was anything but innocent, arms clasping around Crowley’s neck. Their lips found each other. Aziraphale ran a hand through the russet hair, which was getting longer and longer. He knew how proud Crowley was of his luscious locks and he kept complimenting his demon about them. Crowley sucked at his bottom lip, hands still cupping his rear. 

“What do you say we christen this place?” Crowley smirked, eyes hungry. 

Aziraphale playfully hit his chest, eyes wide, trying not to laugh. 

“Don’t say that!” he kissed him again, then after a beat: “But yes, let’s.” 

Crowley laughed devilishly, grabbing the angel’s hands and running upstairs with him.

  
  


***

Fall had crept its way into the little cottage and Crowley and Aziraphale were snuggled against each other on the couch in front of a roaring fire. Crowley was running cold and he’d found one of Aziraphale’s knitted sweaters and put it on. The cream wool looked lovely against his tan skin, Aziraphale thought. The sleeves were slightly too short for him, but the rest of the sweater was loose on him and the angel felt a sense of pride in seeing his demon wearing something of his, especially since it made him look so  _ cute.  _ Crowley loved it because it smelled undeniably like Aziraphale: honey, hot cocoa and, somehow, old paper. 

The trees on the lot were a myriad of colours, and Crowley spent hours each week raking their leaves and yelling at them. He would be damned if they weren’t a perfect crimson or a bright yellow. 

Aziraphale felt Crowley doze off on his shoulder and he was careful to move as little as possible when he turned the pages of the romance novel he was reading. He found a new appreciation for these fictional stories, probably because he’d gotten his own fairytale. His gaze left the pages, wandering toward the sleepy demon. A warm smile spread across his face. He read for the rest of the afternoon, only the sound of the roaring fire in the hearth and the soothing tapping of the October rain disturbing the silence. Crowley slept soundly the whole time, curled up against Aziraphale’s side. He closed the back cover around tea time, his stomach grumbling. Crowley stirred in his sleep, one yellow eye opening slightly. He had a red mark on his cheek from resting against the angel’s shoulder for hours. 

“Hello there,” beamed Aziraphale.

Crowley sleepily smiled back at him, rubbing his eyes. 

Moments like these were their new normal. Aziraphale felt like he’d never get tired of them. Crowley had become very domestic, even if he would never admit it. His plants grew a little less terrified, the calming presence of the angel neutralizing the demon’s threats. In the few months since they had moved in, he’d taken a liking to baking “only for his angel”. Aziraphale often came home to the cottage smelling like warm raspberry pie or fresh biscuits. Aziraphale had bought him a pink “kiss the chef” apron as a joke, but the demon had been genuinely pleased and he wore it every time he made something. Running the bookshop was simple enough, considering Aziraphale had never been very keen on customer service. He’d reduced the hours even more, allowing enough time for them to drive back and forth to the cottage when they went together. Crowley liked going back to the city, missing the hustle and bustle, but Aziraphale was always glad to return to the quiet whisper of the sea. 

Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s cheek, sliding his arms around his soft chest. He lowered his aim and kissed his jaw, which got him a pleased hum in return. As Crowley made his way down his angel’s neck, he proposed something: 

“What do you say we eat out tonight? I’m feeling rather  _ romantic, _ ” he asked, eyelids half closed, his nose still rubbing against Aziraphale’s cheekbone. 

“Did you have somewhere in mind?” he inquired. 

“I rather did. It’s a surprise,” grinned Crowley. “Come on! Let’s get dressed!” 

Aziraphale beamed, getting up and following him upstairs. Crowley took a suit out of the closet and winked at his angel.

“Oh you really meant it when you said get dressed,” Aziraphale smiled. 

“I’m a demon of my word.” 

The angel giggled and switched his cardigan for his trench coat, then he waited for Crowley who had gone in the bathroom to change. He heard the click of Crowley’s shoes before he could see him. He turned towards the door, where Crowley peacocked his way back, tight black suit and heels on, looking ravishing. He was wearing a black silk shirt under his jacket, the top buttons undone seductively. Aziraphale was staring approvingly. He got up from the bed immediately and his hands found Crowley, who was suddenly towering over him. 

“Oh I like  _ this, _ ” Aziraphale uttered, tracing a finger down the lapel of the jacket. 

Crowley oozed confidence and he snaked his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, pulling him in for a kiss. 

“I knew you would.”

He offered his angel his arm and they made their way to the Bentley. Crowley drove them into town to the sound of Queen’s Greatest Hits. The familiar roar of the Bentley came to a halt in front of a little restaurant Aziraphale knew very well. He let out a gasp, beaming at Crowley. He smirked, satisfied. As they got in, they had the restaurant for themselves. 

“Little demonic miracle of my own,” winked Crowley as they sat down. 

The chef brought the first platter of sushi to their table, explaining in which order they should have them. 

“Arigato gozaimasu,” the couple said at the same time, which got Crowley a surprised look. 

He raised his eyebrows with a suggestive smile, leaving Aziraphale to wonder what else he could still discover about the person he thought he knew best. Crowley tried everything Aziraphale gave him, often eating straight from his fingers, which always made the angel blush. The touch of his lips on the pad of his fingers, eyes locked, was highly sensual. The candlelight made Crowley’s eyes burning ambers, and Aziraphale felt his heart swell in his chest as he locked his fingers with his. The angel knew right then that he was about to to do something stupid. 

He looked down as he performed the miracle. 

“Aziraphale…”

Blue eyes shot straight up. Hearing Crowley say his full name was so rare— 

“Oh dear—”

He started laughing. Crowley was taken aback, ring in hand. He felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. 

“Oh, Crowley!” 

Aziraphale got up from his seat and showed him the little box he materialized just moments ago. His golden eyes went from the box to his angel’s face, not believing what he saw. He started laughing too. He got up and took Aziraphale in his arms, kissing him. They kept laughing in between kisses.

“Okay, me first, I had a speech and everything,” said Crowley after a while. 

Aziraphale nodded as they sat back down in front of each other, holding hands. 

“Aziraphale—” there was a beat, “Angel, I wouldn’t be anywhere without you. You gave me purpose, you gave me… hope. This world, any world, isn’t worth living in if you’re not in it. So, would you do me the honor…” he showed the ring, “... of being mine?” 

Aziraphale teared up, and, not having the words, nodded forcefully. Crowley let out a shaky laugh and he slipped the gold band on his finger. The angel gathered himself. 

“Crowley. I literally could not have planned this any less, but I just saw your face and decided right there and then that I wanted to… How does it go… Put a ring on it” 

Crowley threw his head back as he laughed, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand in his. 

“Would you let me..?” 

“Yesss.”

Aziraphale opened the black box and slipped an equally black ring on Crowley’s finger, the band contorted to look like a little snake with no end. 

They drank and laughed together, as they would every night for the rest of eternity. They came home, drunk on each other, and they kissed until they were naked, and they made love until they couldn’t breathe anymore, and they lay in each other’s arms, looking up at the stars in the ink blue sky, as infinite as their love. Aziraphale could swear he noticed a new constellation, and Crowley laughed in his arms and told him he’d make them a new one, shaped however he pleased. His angel melted against him and let slumber win over him. And perhaps in the sky that night there was a serpent and a dove, dancing together, just before Crowley closed his eyes and snuggled closer against Aziraphale. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
